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It’s been a day.
It’s a Saturday, and usually weekends are spent recharging or doing something fun together, but Henry – beautiful, hardworking, kind-hearted Henry – offered to step in and let one of the shelter staff, Leigh, have a free day for her and her wife’s anniversary. Henry had to leave early in the morning, and Alex decided to get up with him so they could at least start the day together.
The plan, Alex had assured to an apologetic Henry halfway out the door, was to seize the opportunity to get some chores done and spend the rest of the day getting ahead on his abundance of material for law school. Alex did start off somewhat successfully, changing their sheets and doing a load of laundry then sitting down at their shared office to study for a few hours. Once he got enough work done to be satisfied, he’d tackle some chores and then cook a proper dinner to surprise Henry. It seemed very manageable – that was, until the studying part of his to-do list started flopping. He kept getting distracted, which in turn made him increasingly restless at the expense of his productivity as the day went on.
Technically, he’s on summer break. He spent the first few days of freedom doing nothing more productive than catching up on sleep; then Henry surprised him with a fucking dreamy holiday to celebrate the culmination of his first year, and so he got to wind down on beautiful beaches with Henry and then trace paths between new freckles on his skin every night. Upon returning to reality, though, Alex picked his textbooks back up and set a study schedule, determined not to let law school catch him off-guard next fall. Despite his undeniably good results, his first year had kicked his ass hard. His priorities have shifted; he’s not so willing to sacrifice his well-being – his entire life – for weeks on end for academic success.
Rationally, Alex knows his study plan won’t crumble down just because he has a handful of unproductive days during what’s supposed to be his summer break.
Rationally.
Emotionally, he just fucking hates it.
He’s been making the rounds through the brownstone all day, a trail of empty coffee mugs left behind showing his failed attempts at changing spots to refresh his brain. He tried taking breaks and getting some fresh air, even doing a few laps around the garden, but that didn’t really help. David eventually gave up on following him through the house, choosing instead to curl up at the bottom of the stairs by the front door, probably desperate for Henry to come back home.
Honestly, Alex can relate.
He’s currently on the living room floor, sitting on the rug with his back against the couch with his laptop open on the coffee table and a textbook balanced on his knees, surrounded by papers and a bunch of uncapped highlighters – a bad idea so close to expensive furniture, but Alex is running out of study spots and he has a color-coding system he won’t sacrifice just to avoid the risk of having to pay for upholstery cleaning. He’s been trying to get through a section for the past however many minutes, but he hasn’t retained a single thing and the words are starting to swirl together on the page like a soft serve ice cream that somehow tastes like cardboard and defeat. It’s just one of those days where his mind decides to be uncooperative and fuck up his plans to get ahead.
Maybe he should have given up a while ago, but wasting time only adds to his guilt even though there’s no pressing deadline he needs to meet. No real one, at least. He’s just always struggled with convincing himself that he can stop for the day. That he’s done enough. He needs Henry to remind him of that, sometimes; to be the one to take him out of that mindset when Alex can’t.
As if Alex’s pity party managed to manifest it, David’s paws scratch against the hardwood floors in a haste to sit up, a key jingles, and then there’s the heavenly sound of Henry’s laughter as he opens the front door to their home. Alex can’t see him but he can confidently guess the scene: David eagerly launching his little body against Henry’s legs, Henry crouching down to pet him, beaming. In a second, Alex knows he’ll hear him say hi to the dog.
“Hello, hello.” Henry’s smooth voice comes pitched slightly higher and dipped in mirth. Alex drops his textbook and grins to himself. The tone alone is enough to make him feel a bit better. David yips and Henry laughs again. “I think someone's a little needy."
Impulsively, Alex calls out, “Yeah, it’s me,” just to hear Henry’s laugh shift to a brighter, louder shade.
Fuck trying to comprehend his material, actually. Finding the strength to stop became much easier the second his favorite person stepped through the door. He gets up and makes his way over to the entryway where Henry is still crouching down and scratching David behind the ears, work bag and keys forgotten on the floor. His tie is loosened, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, hair just a tad tousled after a long day of work. Alex loves the little signs of comfort. He gets the urge to mess him up even more, to show him that he’s home.
Henry looks up and grins at him, eyebrows arched. “I was talking to David. Not everything is about you, you know.”
“Wrong.” Alex doesn’t even try to hide his grin. He still pretends to be offended. “You should know by now that it is. I should win against David.” At the mention of his name, the beagle looks up at Alex. It looks comically like a side-eye. “Henry, he’s glaring at me. He knows it’s a competition.”
“David isn’t competitive; he’s judgemental.”
“He’s basically taunting me while he gets all your attention.” Alex crosses his arms. “You were baby-talking to him, for fuck’s sake.”
“I don’t baby-talk,” Henry says, the liar. “Plus, he’s my dog, I converse with him as I please.”
“Converse,” Alex mimics, teasing. “He’s basically my dog too. I took him out on a walk and fed him and let him out in the garden like, three times today. I even slipped him bites of my lunch. And this is how he repays me, ‘cause he’s an asshole.”
Henry stands up and steps closer to Alex. His eyes are bright, his amused smile showing through the glint in them. He slides his arms around Alex’s waist and Alex automatically relaxes into the touch, uncrossing his arms and resting them on Henry’s chest instead.
“Love, are you getting jealous of our dog?”
“... No.”
“Except you are.”
“Shut up, you’ve been greeting him for like, half an hour. So what if I want my fair share?” Alex huffs. He knows he’s exaggerating, being ridiculous on purpose, but the weight of the day is already slipping off his shoulders and his restlessness has shifted to this – an itch for the push and pull he loves so much. “You know, he ditched me. I took care of him and he left me alone in my academic despair.”
“He’s a bit spoiled.”
“No shit.”
“Still, thank you for being patient.”
“So patient.”
“Of course,” Henry laughs indulgently, finally dipping his head to press a kiss to Alex’s smiling lips. It’s slow, unhurried, a greeting and a promise in the slide of their mouths. He squeezes Alex’s waist lightly as he pulls back – just barely, his breath ghosting over Alex’s skin when he speaks. “Good boy.”
Alex’s brain short-circuits. He sputters as Henry pulls back fully, laughing at him. The fucker.
“What the fuck?”
Henry takes off his jacket and grabs his stuff off the floor. He has the nerve to act like he isn’t fully aware of what he’s doing to Alex. “I was still talking to David.”
“I hate you,” Alex says, though the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth kinda ruins his attempt at pretending to be annoyed. “You were not. Take that back.”
“I’m gonna grab a beer. Do you want one?” Henry says instead, nonchalantly ditching him before Alex’s brain rewires itself enough to follow him down the hallway and into the kitchen. He’s pretty sure David side-eyes him again before ditching them in favor of his favorite nap spot in the corner of the living room.
“Take that back,” Alex repeats, following Henry as he grabs a bottle from the fridge and uncaps it against the counter in one smooth try because apparently he’s adamant on ruining Alex’s life by making quite literally anything feel like foreplay. “Henry,” he insists, “take that back.” Henry laughs and goes to take a sip, but Alex swipes the beer off his hand before he can, taking a swig of it himself instead. He rests the bottle on the counter after, ignoring Henry’s still outstretched hand, and points an accusatory finger at him. “You can’t use those words with me and then pretend they were for David. That’s fucking mean.”
Henry purses his lips together. The corners still tug up. “You’re right, I’m sorry. The timing was just too good to resist. But it was a lie, that praise is reserved for you and you only,” he relents.
Something warm stirs within Alex. He nods, undoing one extra button under Henry’s open collar just to get his hands on him before handing him back the beer. “You’re forgiven. But that was rude.”
“I know. I’d say that’s your influence rubbing off on me, but that would defeat the purpose of a nice apology, so I won’t say such a thing,” Henry says playfully, pulling another laugh out of him, softer this time.
They remain quiet for a while, Henry leaning against the counter and Alex standing between his legs, passing the drink back and forth. Alex takes notice of how much lighter he feels, how much he’s laughed in the short time since Henry got home. Nothing brings him out of a spiral more swiftly than Henry’s mere presence, their easy banter washing away any remnants of his self-inflicted guilt like fresh water down a stream. The empty bottle clinks against the counter and Alex fully leans into Henry’s body, arms around his waist and nose pressed into the crook of his neck. He smells nice, like expensive cologne and something clean and familiar beneath. Alex inhales, takes in the comfort it brings him.
Henry’s hands wrap around his back, holding him close, his cheek leaning against Alex’s temple. He presses a kiss to his cheekbone, then his lips brush against his ear. “You’re a little needy too, aren’t you?”
Alex can hear the self-satisfied teasing tilt in Henry’s tone. He grins against his skin. “Told ya. Everything is about me, just accept it.”
“Fully accepted. Encouraged even.” Henry pauses, pulls back enough to look at him, one of his hands coming up to scratch gently at the short hairs at the back of Alex’s neck. “Rough day then?”
Alex rolls his eyes. “It’s my own fault, but yeah.” Henry simply hums in reply, a quiet encouragement for him to keep going. “I got too ambitious with my plan to get ahead and then failed miserably. Basically wasted the entire day. Wanted to make us a nice dinner but that obviously didn’t happen, and I was gonna clean up around the house too but I think I just made it worse? Pretty sure it’s messier than it was when you left this morning.”
He’s expecting Henry to gently remind him that it’s okay to not be productive, something very true and yet very much useless against his stubborn brain when it gets like this, but instead Henry lets that go like he knows what Alex needs is to put the whole day behind him for good. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in the mood for a greasy pizza. Maybe you could even convince me to tolerate pineapple this time,” is all he tells him. It might be the most romantic thing he could’ve said right now.
Fuck, Alex loves him.
As it turns out, Henry doesn’t really care about keeping the upholstery spotless either. Alex gets to eat his pizza on the couch with his legs thrown over Henry’s, listening as Henry tells him about his own day at the shelter and sneaking David bits of cheese just to buy back his love. Henry catches him eventually, rolling his eyes in a way that somehow drips with fondness.
“Now who’s spoiling him?”
“Still you,” Alex lies, finishing his last bite and stretching his limbs out with a satisfied groan.
Henry slips a hand under the hem of Alex’s sweatpants to rest on his calf. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Comfy.”
“And brain-wise?”
Sometimes it still takes Alex by surprise how much Henry cares, how well he knows him, how tenderly he treats the most difficult sides of him. Alex sits up, throws his napkin on the table and proceeds to climb on Henry’s lap instead, wrapping his arms loosely around his shoulders so he can toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Not even a little guilty. You’re very distracting, Wales.”
“Pot, kettle.” Henry’s hands come up to his waist, slipping just underneath Alex’s hoodie. “Still jealous of David?” He asks, the edges of a teasing smile dancing on his lips.
Alex laughs, shakes his head. “Got you all to myself, don’t I?”
“Always.” Henry squeezes his waist lightly. Alex wants more. He tugs a little at his hair and watches those full lips part in response, leans down to brush a barely-there kiss against them.
“Show me, then.”
Henry does. He takes Alex to their bedroom and takes him apart with painstaking dedication, presses praise into his skin like a permanent mark until every residual bad feeling about the day is replaced with Henry Henry Henry.
Afterwards, sated and sweaty and very fucking happy, Alex finds himself grinning widely at his boyfriend as they lie in bed facing each other. Henry laughs, scoots closer. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about how you’re never gonna get rid of me.”
“Still needy?”
“Always a little when it comes to you,” Alex grumbles, then immediately groans at himself. “That was embarrassing. Lost my filter in the dopamine.”
Henry wraps an arm around his waist. “You never had a filter to begin with.”
“And you find that deeply charming.”
“I do.”
“H?”
“Yes, love?”
“Thank you.”
He doesn’t have to specify. Henry’s lips curl into a soft smile. “We’ve got each other, don’t we?”
They do.